


Trust is Key

by LachrymoseStories



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Alternate Universe, Character Death, Heavy Angst, Mind Manipulation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-25
Updated: 2018-04-29
Packaged: 2019-04-07 17:13:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14085714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LachrymoseStories/pseuds/LachrymoseStories
Summary: (an AU where Washington gets the Sigma AI and becomes the Meta, while Maine gets Epsilon and is assigned to Recovery One)Washington seems able to handle his new AI, but when a mission goes wrong his life is turned upside down, and he quickly has to decide who to trust and who to fear.





	1. Injuries

It started off fine. Sure, sigma wasn't exactly the most normal AI unit to be assigned to, and he didn't exactly meld with Wash’s happy-go-lucky personality. But they managed.

 

Then the mission happened.

 

The plan was simple: he, York, Carolina, Maine and Texas would go in and collect intel, then meet for extraction. It was going fine. They were on the roof, Maine was finding their way to them, they were ready to go. Until -

 

_They were falling from the building. Of course Tex blew it up, where she appeared destruction was never far behind.  This was actually the second time it had happened. Wash almost laughed when he thought of the similarity between the current situation and the Sarcophagus mission. Enemies were flanking them from all sides in Pelicans, and they were trying to board a ship mid-air. Typical freelancer work._

 

_“Wash, watch out on behind you!” Carolina's voice. He barely had time to turn himself, aim at the pelican meeting him face-to-face, before a bullet struck him in the chest._

 

_Wash grunted in pain. His armor protected him from a fatal injury, but the force knocked him off course. Before he knew it, their ride was flying off without him._

 

_“You've certainly gotten yourself into quite a situation, Agent Washington.”_

 

_“No shit Sig, do you see a way out of this?”_

  


Washington came to covered in rubble. Every part of him hurt too much to process. He tried to move, but realized he was trapped.  Even worse, any movement caused the searing pain to get worse. He screamed, and blacked out again.

 

_“Agent Washington, there is no scenario I have been able to create that would not result in some injury”_

 

_Agent Washington cursed. The ground was rapidly approaching, and he needed a plan._

 

_“Find one where I at least survive!”_

 

_“There is one”_

 

_“What is it?”_

 

_“Are you sure you want to proceed?”_

 

_“Yes sigma, for God's sake! I don't want to die!”_

 

_“Then hold out your right arm”_

 

_“What?!”_

 

_“Now!”_

 

_Wash stuck out his arm. As soon as he had, he realized Sigma’s plan. His arm, stretched out, caught itself on a light pole. He heard the bones snap before he felt it, let out a loud scream. He was used to pain, but it was never fun. His entire arm was on fire. He managed to keep his senses, and held tightly to the pole. He was still high above the ground._

 

_“What now,” Wash grunted._

 

It was night when he came to again. The pain was so overwhelming, he couldn't even think. Something shifted in rubble and his hand was crushed further. He could only grunt.

 

“Stay calm, Agent Washington. You are, at least, still alive”

 

_“_ Ha . . . ha. Where is . . . everyone?” his voice was strained, it was hard to form the words.

 

“Gone.”

 

_“_ **_What?!”_ **

 

_“Let go.”_

 

_“Are you crazy?”_

 

_The drop was over 50 feet to the ground, or 10 feet into speeding traffic. Two terrible choices._

 

_“You will survive the fall.”_

 

_“Yeah that's comforting.”_

 

_“Trust me, agent”_

 

“They're _gone?_ ”

 

“Yes. Mother left the area about a day and a half ago.”

 

“Do they -” His sentence was cut off by a rush of pain which sent his head reeling. He struggled to keep himself conscious, breathing hard, “Do they know I'm here?”

 

“I would say yes.”

 

Wash fell silent. He tried to logisticize why they would abandon him here. Maybe Tex arriving at Mother with the sarcophagus forced them to hurry back. Maybe the director forced them to retreat. Maybe they didn't have a choice. They couldn't have had a choice. There was no way they would just leave him here.

 

“Are . . . They going to come back?”

 

“It isn't likely. The only thing of value here, according to Project Freelancer, is me.”

 

Wash knew that couldn't be true. He had friends in Freelancer. People cared about him there. They did, right?

 

Another wave of pain hit him.

 

“Sig” Wash could barely speak, “What's my status?”

 

“You have several major injuries, but none are lethal. You will survive until you are rescued or die of starvation.”

 

“Can you,” he started to black out, “turn on the anaesthetics?”

 

“If I keep them running, your supply will run out before you die”

 

Wash fainted before he could respond.

 

_He hit the ground hard. His legs buckled underneath him and he fell over._

 

_“Start running”_

 

_But wash couldn't. His legs must be hurt, or broken, or something. When he tried standing, they refused to support him._

 

_“I...can't...even...walk”_

 

_The building behind him was collapsing. He could feel the ground shake below him._

 

_“You will get trapped in the rubble if you don't move.”_

 

_“Well what am I supposed to do if I can't stand?”_

 

_“I suggest crawling”_

 

_It sounded ridiculous, but it was his only hope. Using his good arm, wash began dragging himself forward. He didn't get far before a piece of rubble struck him on the head, knocking him out._

~~~~

Sigma looked at the partially buried body of his companion. He was told many things when he was born. Since then, he had learned that many of them were false. He was not his own AI, but a fragment of something bigger. He was not supposed to be able to lie, lying was for sentient beings. He wasn't supposed to be fully sentient. Yet here he was. Agent Washington had enough anaesthetic in his suit to keep him in mild pain for days. But that wasn't what sigma wanted. He knew that Washington would grow weak with the pain. The pain would break him.

 

He also knew that the Freelancers would get here before Washington died. They would rescue him. He needed to make the most of this opportunity while he had it.

 

Since Sigma had been assigned Agent Washington, he had been looking for some way to control him. He wanted Wash's body, his life. He wanted to be complete. He knew he was a fragment. He thought if he combined all the fragments, he could become whole. But he needed a host. Washington was the best candidate, but he would never allow his mind to be overtaken in normal conditions. This was a chance to change that.

 

He just needed time.

  



	2. Pavlov

The freelancers weren’t exactly happy to find out they had somehow left Agent Washington behind.

 

Carolina, of course, blamed the whole thing on Tex. It was Agent Texas who had blown up the building, causing them to have to jump off. The rest of the freelancers weren’t exactly sure how Washington had been left behind. He hadn’t radioed asking for help. Everyone had assumed he’d gotten aboard the ship. Carolina had been too preoccupied to care. 

 

Whatever had caused him to be left behind, no one realized he was gone until everyone was aboard and their ride was on its way to Mother, when they did the headcount and came out one short. The director demanded an explanation, but there was none to be found. All that happened was ceaseless bickering between the agents, particularly Texas and Carolina, over whose fault it was. The director finally silenced them, and told them to leave.

 

“Aren’t we going to retrieve him,” York asked.

 

“Unless any of you wish to admit to being the one that caused him to be left behind,” the director replied, “then it is Agent Washington’s own fault he is not aboard this ship. He is perfectly capable of finding his own way back.”

 

“You’ve got to be joking,” Carolina stepped forward, “he could be hurt, or captured, or dead.”

 

“The fate of Agent Washington is not your concern,” the director spat back, “I will decide what happens to him and that’s final.”

~~~~~

Sigma had come up with a plan. He knew the famous tale of pavlov’s dog: ring a dinner bell everytime food is granted, and the dog will come to associate the dog with food. The more you did it, the more dependent the dog became on that dinner bell, until one day Pavlov could ring the bell and the dog would come running in no matter what. Unconditional loyalty. Dependency. Exactly what he needed. He didn’t have a dinner bell, or food to give Washington, but he had something else.

 

He could tell the pain was insufferable, and was quickly making his host delirious. The first day or so, Wash seemed to be able to manage it. He was a soldier, built to endure. But no one could endure this much pain for long. Slowly, it chipped at Washington’s memory. It broke his toughness like an eggshell, exposing him. The pain tore apart any resistance his mind had, chipping away at it until the only thing Washington was capable of doing was keeping himself awake, and barely that.

 

Now that Washington had reached this point of mental weakness, Sigma’s plan could kick in: administer a large dose of anaesthetics to him, enough to completely numb the pain, but only when he, Sigma, was around talking to Washington. With enough time, the agent would come to associate Sigma’s presence with the calm sleepiness of the anesthetics, which acted also as sedatives, and his absence with pain and delirium.

 

Washington also, as Sigma found out after the first dose of painkillers, became especially lucid and susceptible to ideas while under them. This gave Sigma an idea.

 

He’d started by convincing Washington his injuries weren’t an accident. When Washington protested, he left. When Sigma returned, Washington was eager to believe him, and had already convinced himself it was true. 

 

The third session Sigma thought he was going to have to start over. Washington seemed to have forgotten everything they had discussed. However, when he asked Washington how he had gotten injured, the implanted memory resurfaced.

 

Sigma knew that he could also use this Pavlovic training as a way to manipulate agent Washington. Eventually, he could even change enough of the agent’s memories to have him convinced the freelancers were his mortal enemies. Turning him against the freelancers was a protection - he knew that in his course of convincing Washington to look into finding a way to make Sigma a full AI the other freelancers would inevitably find out. When they did, they would try to remove Sigma and destroy him. If Washington was both dependent on Sigma and distrustful of the freelancers, there was no way he would allow that to happen. Essentially, Sigma was safe from any harm and could go about his research as he pleased.

 

He also knew the director. He knew that he would want to punish Wash for getting himself left behind, but would eventually have to come to fetch Sigma at the very least. This gave him plenty of time to work.

~~~~

Washington came to after another blackout. The pain was breaking him down. He was weak, and could barely stay awake. It was so hard to think. He couldn’t even remember how he got there. He knew the memories were there, but trying to get to them was like swimming upstream in a tsunami. Why couldn’t he remember? How long had he been here? Where even  _ was _ he?

 

The pain crashed and rolled, a hellish sea in his mind. It overpowered everything. Death was better than this.

 

Even worse, the pain was affecting his mind. Whenever he slept, or fell unconscious, he was plagued by nightmares. Most of them served as alternate explanations to the pain, which meant the pain carried over to his dreams. He dreamt of himself tortured, torn apart by monsters and aliens. He dreamt of intense pain, and begged for the dream to end, begged for the pain to end, only to wake up and remember the pain was the real part.

 

“Agent Washington.”

 

Sigma spoke, and with him came a wave of relief. The pain washed away, and a blissful drowsiness replaced it. Every painful, anxious thought vanished, and was replaced with an emptiness that wasn’t scary but tranquil and inviting. Compared to before, this was heaven.

 

He relaxed without even thinking. Thinking felt like so much trouble. It was so much better to float in this calmness, let Sigma do the thinking for him. He felt his mouth moving, but didn’t really care what he was saying.

  
“Hey Sigma.”

“Your condition is getting worse.”

Condition? He felt fine. Better than fine, he felt amazing. Why was Sigma talking about his condition? It didn’t matter. He let the thought drift away, and it felt amazing to not worry about it.

 

“Is it,” he questioned halfheartedly. 

 

“I don’t think the other Freelancers are planning on rescuing you alive.”

 

Freelancer.  _ Free-lance-er,  _ He knew that word. It was on the tip on his tongue. He remembered something. States? Carolina, New York, South Dakota, Connecticut. He remembered faces with those names, and voices. Why faces? Were those people from those states? What was a state? These questions filled Washington’s mind, but he didn’t focus on any thought for long. He let them drift by, only mildly concerned at them.

 

He watched the faces and the voices and the states all connect in his mind.

 

Wait, wait, no, these were people. He knew these people, at least he thought he did. He tried to follow the memory trail, but he was just so tired and it was such hard work and it felt so  _ good _ to just sit here and listen and not think.

 

“Aren’t they my friends,” he asked, barely concerned.

“No, agent, you’re remembering wrong.”

 

“Oh.”

 

He felt bad. Why was his memory so terrible? Everything was so nice, why was his memory the only thing troubling him? Sigma was so much  _ better _ at remembering. He should just let Sigma do the remembering for him. Yeah, that would be so much easier.

 

“Would you like me to tell you the truth?”

 

Washington nodded. He listened as Sigma told him who the freelancers were, that they had abandoned him trapped here to die, and would only come back to take Sigma from him. That they thought he wasn’t worthy of having Sigma. That they thought he was better off dead.

 

At first he started to think Sigma had to be lying. It didn’t make sense with what little memories he had access to. The freelancers seemed to care about him. They would surely, then, come to rescue him?

 

But Sigma told him he was remembering wrong, so Sigma must be right. Right?

 

He was confused. It didn’t feel good to be confused. It felt good to be certain. Better ask Sigma, he’ll know.

 

“Are you sure?”

 

“Do you doubt me, agent?”

 

“No, it’s just, what I remember -”

 

“I already told you agent, your memory is faulty. If you refuse to listen then it is not worth conversing.”

 

“Wait -”

 

But Sigma was already gone. Washington knew because the bliss left with him, replaced by a pain that in its absence seemed to multiply tenfold. He didn’t have the strength to scream, and a scream wouldn’t even do justice to the agony he was in.  

 

Only when the pain returned did he remember it had ever been there. Before, in that empty tranquility Sigma brought with him, he’d forgotten so much. Now he remembered. He remembered where he was, how he got there. Remembered that he was trapped and dying and it was all the Freelancers’ fault. 

 

He couldn’t stay conscious for long. He dreaded the blackness of sleep, dreaded what dream it would bring. Wash pleaded, begged for Sigma to come back. He promised to listen. He promised to believe him. Sigma was right, always right. How could he have thought otherwise? He was stupid, so stupid for questioning, and now here was the pain and the nightmares and everything horrible. He just wanted that peace to return, just wanted the pain to go away, and please, he would do anything, he would never question Sigma again, just come back, just let it stop, please.

 

Another wave hit him, knocking away his thought process. He could no longer concentrate enough to form words. Another blackout was coming, he was already losing his vision. He was afraid, terrified of it.

 

He needed Sigma.

 


	3. Damage Control

After begging, and pleading, and convincing the director that the sigma so was too valuable a piece of technology to be left behind so long (their real concern was wash, but anything to get a rescue planned) agents South, York and Carolina were given the ok to find Agent Washington. 

 

They began prepping immediately. The best place to start would be where they last saw him - aka next to or potentially underneath a collapsed skyscraper. His chances of being alive and in the same location they last saw him were slim, but it was the best place to start. Within a few hours of getting the okay, the agents had a rescue plan and were loading into a pelican.

 

The plan was to scour the rubble for any signs of him. Hopefully as they got closer his communications would be working and he would be able to help them find him (if he was alive). There were a lot of “ifs” in the plan, and everyone was hoping for the best but expecting the worst as they set off.

\----

Pain. Harsh, unimaginable, endless pain. Washington drifted in and out of consciousness, unable to even register how much time had passed. He would just process patches of the sky, white clouds drifting past or the endless sea of stars forming shapes he’d never actually bothered to learned but always looked up at with a sense of faded wonder, having spent so much time up among them. Then a rush of pain would hit him like a bulldozer, sending him back into the infinite void of unconsciousness. The nightmares had become so lifelike it was nearly impossible to tell them apart from reality. 

 

Sometime ago, how long he couldn’t remember. Some time ago. Some time. What time was it? The sun was up. He didn’t remember if it had set, or how many times. Some time ago, what had happened some time ago?

 

Sigma, sigma, yes. Sigma had left. Washington thought he remembered Sigma telling him it was to scout out, look for any signs of a rescue mission. Washington knew, even with his hazy mind, that there wasn’t going to be any. He knew, remembered clearer than anything else, the other freelancers didn’t care about him. They were probably happy he was here, probably thought he was long dead.

 

His vision fades as another flash of pain drives through him. It’s getting harder to breathe. Focusing is nearly impossible. He tries lifting a body part, any part of him, but he’s too weak. He stares up at the blue sky, waiting for the next blackout.

\---

It doesn’t take long for the ship to reach the planet, at the speeds it can travel. A pelican was already loaded, and just needed the go-ahead from the director. Although he was hesitant to give it still, angry at his agent for the mess up that was causing so many delays, he knew the value of the AI Washington had. Hopefully, if the agent was alive, the time he had spent alone on the planet was punishment enough.

 

If not, he was always willing to come up with something harsher.

He gave the okay to depart.

 

The freelancers were silent as the pelican descended. Everyone’s thoughts were on their friend and fellow freelancers. Some wondered if he would still be there, others if he was even alive. There was no need for words, only for silent contemplation. This, of course, made the descent feel like an eternity. With a void of information on the other side. 

\---

Sigma scanned the surroundings. If he knew the director - which he did, being a tortured-off fragment of a shattered copy of the man - he would have finally decided to let the freelancers come rescue Agent Washington, or at least to retrieve him. 

 

Washington’s condition was reaching critical. The painkiller supply in his suit was getting low, so he had to find excuses to not be around him, or he would ruin the manipulating he’d spent so long on. On top of that, he hadn’t had food or water since the incident. He was dehydrated, bordering on staving, delusional, and unable to move himself.

 

If Sigma didn’t need his body for his plan, he would actually be happy. Unfortunately, if the agent died he would have to start all over, and he probably wouldn’t get another chance like this. So he was hoping on the arrival of the rescue mission. 

 

As if on cue, when Sigma looked up he saw a Pelican in the distance, still in its descent. It would likely land about two blocks from where Washington lay. He would need to make preparations with the agent, then find a way to get their attention. Quickly he made his way back to Washington.

\---

_ “Agent” _

 

Relief. Not even that, bliss. More than bliss, and indescribable release from every pent up ounce of pain coursing through his blood. An unintentional smile crept across his face. After an eternity of pain, the relief was almost too much to handle. He felt himself slipping into a sort of numbness, and unawareness to everything. Just calm, and quiet, and no more pain. No more anything.

 

“Agent washington”

 

Wash. Washington.  _ Agent  _ Washington. He liked the sound of that. Familiar. As if he’d heard it hundreds of times, gotten so used to it he’d forgotten ever being called anything else. Was that his name? Agent Washington? Then, someone was calling his name. He didn’t want to drag himself back out, didn’t want to force himself into consciousness. It was so  _ hard  _ to focus, couldn’t he just stay here?

 

“Agent Washington, wake up”

 

He knew that voice. It started with an S, right. He could remember, at least a little. Si....Silicon? Silly? Sister? Sincere? Since.

 

_ Since you’ve been gone, I can breathe for the first time, _

 

_ “Agent Washington!” _

 

Sigma! That’s right. Sigma. Sigma had finally come back. If he didn’t wake up, he might get mad and leave again. The thought of the endless pain returning sent a shiver through Washington. He dragged himself out of the numbness, forced himself to open his eyes.

 

“Sigma?”

 

“Good afternoon, agent. You were beginning to worry me. I thought you might be dead.”

 

“No, I’m...” he struggled to think of the right word, “I’m ok”

 

“Good” There was a sense of relief in Sigma’s voice, Wash could feel it. Sigma had really been worried about him. That made him feel . . . happy, somehow. He didn’t think he remembered Sig ever being that kind to him. But he cared, he had to. He came back, he was afraid wash had died. He cared.

 

“Agent, I have a surprise for you.”

 

Washington perked up, as much as the semi-comatose state he was in would allow him.

 

“A surprise?”

 

“I was scanning your system right now, and I found something.”

 

“Something . . . good?”

 

“Yes. I found a small portion of sedatives and painkillers stored away. It was hard to find, so I had missed it before.”

 

“Oh,” he vaguely remembered what sedatives were, and painkillers. He wondered if he even needed them, since he was so happy right now. But if sigma left . . .

 

“Would you like me to administer them? I have to go scout again.”

 

“Yes,” Washington blurted out before he even had time to think.

\---

 

Sigma had to stop himself from chuckling at how easy Washington was to fool, “Very well. Administering now” he gave Washington a small sedative on top of what he had already pumped in upon his arrival, just enough to knock the agent out as the freelancers arrived. It would be so much better if the agent didn’t see the rescue mission.

 

Within minutes Washington had fallen back unconscious. He called the agent’s name a few times to be safe. To be honest, he had been surprised that the agent had woken up the first time, with how much he had been given. The conversation had been just an excuse to give him more, to ensure he wouldn’t wake up as the freelancers moved him.

 

Sigma looked down the block. He could see the landed pelican in the distance, the freelancers just climbing out. He would be their welcoming party.

 

He made his way over to them. He recognized the armor of South Dakota, New York, and Carolina. Good, a small crowd.

 

“Agent Carolina, over here.”

 

The agents stopped their what he supposed was sightseeing and looked over at him.

 

\---

 

“Sigma,” York stepped forward. He recognized the voice of Washington’s AI unit anywhere. What was surprising was how fast he had found them. The AI must have seen their pelican landing. Then, that meant -

 

“Where’s Wash,” Carolina finished York’s thought, walking towards the AI.

 

“He is not far. You all arrived just in time, his condition is not good.”

 

“Take us to him” she commanded. She didn’t want to waste precious time that could cost them Wash’s life.

 

“Of course, this way.”

 

They followed Sigma through the mess of rubble to a street corner a few blocks down. At first they didn’t see him, his armor blended in so well with the surroundings. They were partly grateful for that. It must’ve been what allowed for him not being captured. That, and it looked like the cleanup crew had long since given up before reaching the area they were in. Eventually, however, Sigma pointed his location out, and they could just see the orange of his visor poking out of a heap of rubble.

 

Most of his body was trapped under the rubble. Immediately, they called out his name, but got no response. Sigma told them he had been keeping Wash sedated in an attempt to make his suffering less. They asked if Wash was alive. Sigma told them he was, but was very weak.

 

York began digging first, lifting what he could. Carolina was stronger, and helped him lift the heavier pieces. In 15 minutes they had cleared enough rubble to pull Wash out. 

 

They didn’t want to think of the injuries, didn’t want to imagine how many bones had been shattered under the weight of the concrete. Some freelancers might hear about injuries, mutilations, and shrug it off, saying it was just a part of the job. But when it happened to a teammate? To a  _ friend?  _ They were sick just thinking about it.

 

They all worked together carrying Wash to the pelican. It wasn’t because of his weight, but rather his fragility. They didn’t want to damage him more than he already had been.

 

Little did the agents know what damage bringing him back would cause.


End file.
